a world with millions of scars
by Aiko Isari
Summary: There are no chosen ones, not after the deaths of the legends, not until the digimon decide to make their own way. Part 1.


There are no Crests, there are no Digivices here. Not yet. Not anymore.

All there are are the babies of File Island watching a purple sea.

All there is is Agumon recently evolved, crushing the stakes of a Kuwagamon. All there is is tiny Patamon evolving for the sake of their tiny home and for the sake of escaping its rotten earth.

There are no Digivices. There are no Crests. There are no humans.

The first were thrown aside, murdered by the world that had called them. There is no destiny.

Not yet. The past is working for the present.

* * *

This is the story of eight eggs hatching as their only family, the story of the seven vowing such suffering on the twisted darkness for stealing their eighth, their fragile kitten child who caught the best prey and killed the most monsters when she aimed her tail properly. The poison waves had stolen her and it would pay.

This is the story of many Digimon who did not meet humans until it was almost too late, until despair and cynicism and resigned acceptance had swallowed them whole.

Tunomon evolved to stab Ogremon's hand open with his horn and roast him with Agumon's flames. The two have always been the ultimate team, ultimate pair. Piyomon and Patamon learn to fly together while fleeing from a heartbroken Monzaemon whose fur is turning black. He can't help the stitches breaking either, Palmon had ripped them open.

They all feel it, indistinct and careless, that there should be more, but there is not.

* * *

Yukidarumon's domain is pure chill and yet they hide there no matter how many feathers fall off and fur tatters, huddling in a fire because Devimon won't look for them there.

They think of the eighth. They think of her and the scar that had gone from head to paw because she was struck by a shattered curse at the beginning hatching season, they know. They know because Elecmon had told them before she had disappeared and before he died to a cold Leomon's fist.

They knew not to trust the Adults. One was causing this chaos.

Devimon killed the children. There weren't many left.

They were the strongest. Of course he would hunt them.

When his soldiers arrived, the seven cared not about Black Gears or kind Digimon underneath them. They cared about the unhatched eggs and the data dust flying into the clouds and turning black as their hearts were trying to become despite the spots of white still buried deep in their cores.

When the soldiers came, they fought to kill.

Patamon could not evolve, Patamons were obedient and fun-loving and they needed an incredible push the first time and this was not that push, not yet. Still, he controlled the wind, tackled the air and then he screamed his pain to all who could hear and that was enough to force the others to their feet (because without the kitten, the bat-hamster was their little brother, their little savior and they would be damned to the Dark Area before they lost him) and to charge Devimon. Their war cries got lost in the snow.

Yet they lived. Scattered across the poison island turning gray and black and shriveling.

Their first task is to get back together and of course they're too late. They gather to the sound of Patamon's frightened shriek as his whole life spirals upwards and turns them white. And they try to bat Devimon's titan, roaring laughter and wiping them aside like they are nothing.

And Patamon rises, angel of pure white and spreads his wings. He lifts his staff and the sky shatters wide and broken and bright lights begin to fall from the sky.

Devimon screams rage. _"Humans!"_

The word doesn't register, not as solidly as Angemon's fist to his core, punching in him, through him before he dies writhing in pain at the pure darkness. There are no Holy Devices to power Angemon in this life, only adrenaline and fear and a brief moment above mortal minds. So he dies in pain, choked out by the darkness as the light squeezes out from his body and purifies the tattered sea and earth.

He is nothing but feathers that fall into an egg. Them and seven children.

It is later that they all notice the eighth child is not there. The wonder and horror is too new.

* * *

They don't want to let Patamon go.

The seven Digimon have already lost one, now two. Even if the second will come back, They don't want these human things that they've never known about and who never came through the blood times and the fear and the suffering and yet here they are.

Takeru, the smallest that they know of, is gentle with Patamon, and they all hate it. You can't be gentle in this world, not now, not when the lurking shadows were prowling towards them across the sea. And yet he is. The children are surprised and curious and innocent and it hurts.

(Not that they don't have problems, this is the first time they've been here and not had to endure fighting for their lives but they will. They will and they will suffer and cry but unlike the Digimon, they will not deny their light as much as they did.)

Yamato is still frantic about Takeru and Sora does not believe she feels love or can love. Mimi is secretly the most well-prepared and best grounded, even surprising herself with how much she is and she holds up Jou and Koushiro both, Jou and his self-doubt and Koushiro with his crumpling in and in because he doesn't think he has anything.

These are not war-torn children like the Digimon but they are all still torn up, all but Taichi.

And even that isn't true.

* * *

The day before they leave, Taichi wakes up screaming. He's screaming and screaming so loud and so high and there are tears in his eyes and he's babbling brokenly into the air one name.

Hikari.

Hikari.

His baby sister. His baby girl.

He had raised her since the age of seven when their apartment burned down and their parents had died under the rubble and they weren't around anymore (their grandparents were) and now she wasn't there and he needed to be with her because she was _in pain_.

Sora and Yamato were there instantly, Sora as the makeshift mom she had been to the cuckoolander girl with the monster dreams that had come true and Yamato as the older brother with Takeru wriggling in his grip because he also knows.

The Digimon look at the cracked egg in the little human boy's lap and they all know.

They all understand.

They'll help, they say. For their little siblings. For their family.

Whether they're Digital Being or not.

Then, as if by magic, the Digivices appear and the egg hatches.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** This was a random idea and I liked it. If you guys like it, please let me know!

Challenges: Diversity Writing Challenge (Digimon) C15. Write a fic that is T rated, what if challenge, and Halloween Trick or Treat Bag day 27. Write about someone/something precious to a character being taken away.


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